


your arms around me

by flubberfish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 07:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flubberfish/pseuds/flubberfish
Summary: After the war, Harry swears off magic.





	your arms around me

In the days after the war, things were difficult. Grieving and learning how to cope seemed to be the only thing people had energy for these days. People were getting used to feeling safe again, refugees were returning home, people were being reunited. Funerals for those lost at the Battle of Hogwarts, like a long parade of coffins, had finally come to an end.   
Everyone seemed to deal with the trauma in different ways: Molly doted on absolutely everyone who entered a 10-mile radius, seemingly baking and cooking non-stop; Arthur had taken to spending exorbitant amount of time in the garage, tinkering with anything and everything he could get his hands on; Ron and Hermione’s bickering had been swallowed up with their excessive PDA and not-so-secret rendezvous; Ginny spent more time than ever training on the pitch; and Harry had sworn off magic.  
For some reason, the thought of doing magic made Harry’s chest tighten and hands shake. It felt like a bludger hit him in the gut, taking the wind out of him. He’d get suddenly very dizzy, his legs would wobble, and his vision would blur. So he placed his wand delicately into his kitchen drawer and closed it up tight. And, like Dobby’s grave, things done “the muggle way” just seemed right. Like they were real, safe.   
Of course, there were plenty of people more than willing to lecture to him that it was the opposite, that he should continue to carry his wand at all times, that there were still plenty of Death Eaters on the loose who would love to catch him unarmed. But Harry kept to himself, rarely leaving Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He knew that when he did, Kingsley sent Aurors to follow him at a distance. Harry knew he should be more annoyed, seeing as the rotund wizard and lanky witch assigned to him were in no way discreet, but he found that he just didn’t care.  
Molly always made a fuss when he visited the Burrow, and Arthur dutifully nodded along with her, though his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Hermione had long since given up her long-winded admonishments, instead becoming tight-lipped and haughty whenever Harry was around. Ron looked at Harry sympathetically, but still said, “She’s got a point, mate,” and shrugged at him.  
Only Ginny seemed to understand that he needed to take a break from the wizarding world. She never reprimanded him or shook her head when she thought he wasn’t looking. Just quietly took his hand whenever his eyes fixed onto an enchanted object and he couldn’t seem to move. When she wasn’t on her broom, she was at Grimmauld Place. She’d taken to apparating a few blocks away and walking to the door. Harry sometimes watched for her, and it was a relief to see her athletic form approaching from a distance rather than the shock of her appearing in front of him with a loud ‘pop’.   
After weeks of slow travel to and from the Burrow, Harry had finally agreed to Floo to Shell Cottage. It was a big step for him: the first magic he’d have any hand in since leaving the grounds at Hogwarts. Bill and Fleur had assured Ginny that it would just be the four of them, and that they’d be careful to refrain from using what Ginny called “excessive magic.”  
Harry, too nervous to sit and wait, had decided to make an appetizer. He was slicing up cucumber for finger sandwiches, his thoughts focused more on his upcoming expedition, when two slender, freckled arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Startled, Harry jumped slightly, the knife cutting a deep gash into his forefinger.   
“Harry!” he heard Ginny’s voice say.   
The world started to tilt and Harry noticed, in the way one would note the weather, blood splattering the kitchen sink. His eyes traveled to his index finger, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What’s this, then?” he mumbled quietly as his eyelids drooped closed.  
Vaguely, Harry felt Ginny’s hand wrap around his gently. “What’s broken can always be fixed, and what’s fixed will always be broken.”   
The room went dark.

* * *

When he woke up, his neck was already stiff. Groggily, Harry sat up and looked at his finger. It was wrapped up haphazardly in toilet paper. He frowned, unsure of what is going on, and took in his surroundings.  
A hospital waiting room surrounded him, people with a variety of ailments sitting on sofas exactly like the one on which he was perched. A woman across from him scowled grumpily at him, an unnatural bend in her arm apparent, and three seats down from her was a child who looked rather green. A moment later, the young boy scrambled up from his seat and ran to what Harry could only guess was the toilet.   
A Muggle Hospital.   
To his left, Ginny sat, staring scrutinizingly down at a newspaper on her lap. “Fascinating,” she whispered, and Harry caught sight of her prodding the images as if to make them move.   
“Gin,” he said, his voice hoarse with sleep.  
Immediately, she looked up at him, her lips twitching in amusement. “Ah, so you’re awake then.” She shifted, sliding the paper out of her lap and onto the empty seat next to her. “Good. I have no bloody clue what to write in here, and I haven’t got a quill.” She picked up a clipboard with a small stack of papers attached.   
Incredulously, Harry took it, sliding the pen out of the top. “You brought me to a muggle hospital?”  
She shrugged nonchalantly. “I could’ve fixed it in a mo’, but I’ve always been curious.”  
Of course, Harry knew the real reason they came here: his current aversion to magic. He smiled affectionately at her, leaning his head down to press a quick kiss to her temple before resting it on her shoulder. He brought the clipboard up to his face and started to fill it out.  
“I’m just glad I got you here in time,” she said after a moment’s silence. “Can you imagine? The Boy Who Lived, done in by a knick on his finger?”  
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes.   
“The Chosen One, killed via paper cut,” she drawled, flinging a dramatic hand to her forehead. He shoved her gently with his shoulder. “Harry Potter, survivor of two Killing Curses, murdered by a paring knife.”  
Finally, he was laughing. “Okay, I get it!”  
Ginny smiled at him teasingly once more before turning her attention back to the muggle newspaper beside her.  
A few long minutes later, Harry had only gotten to the third row of the pile of paperwork and his finger was still aching. He expelled a long gust of air, leafing through the three, four, five pages left to fill out. After a moment’s deliberation, he set the clipboard aside and took stock of the room.  
“Do you have your wand with you?” He asked her in a low voice.  
Ginny’s eyebrows shot up as she turned to look at him. Thankfully, though, she didn’t comment. “Yeah, I do.”  
Harry nodded, more to strengthen his resolve than anything else. “Okay, well, here’s the thing. You may be curious, but typically this kind of thing takes forever.” He took a deep breath. “What d’you say we head out and you can take care of this for me?” He waved his bandaged hand lazily through the air. Despite his nonchalance, his heart rate picked up and he swallowed, trying to tame it.  
“Cheers,” Ginny said, a smile onto twisting her lips. “Welcome back.”


End file.
